Harry and Ginny: Together
by PhoenixFireHope
Summary: A Harry/Ginny reunion after the final battle fanfic. Explores love and what it means to be alive. Please review.
1. Reunited

**A/N: Hello, I haven't written a fanfic for ages but inspiration hit and I typed this up. I love Ginny/Harry. Please, please review! **

**Of course, none of the amazing world of Harry Potter belongs to me. It belongs to JK Rowling, the amazing creator of my favourite fictional world. **

Together

Harry awoke to the sound of birdsong and the touch of warm, golden light upon his eyelids. He felt strangely light and free, as if ropes binding him had slackened. Just as he began to savour the wonderful feeling of peace and serenity that had descended upon him in the place of the weight of stress and worry that had dominated the past year, the pain hit him.

A dull ache had settled around his midriff, and as he stretched, it throbbed with a sudden, shocking intensity which temporarily robbed him of breath. As he steadied his breathing, new pain confronted him. Every inch of his body felt battered, as if he had attempted to dance with the Whomping Willow. Harry groaned. Suddenly, a new force of pain hit him as the events of the previous day hit him. Fred. Tonks. Remus. So many had died, and he had been too slow to prevent Tom Riddle's powerful force of evil to overtake them. Yet, amidst the grief of death, an unmistakable happiness began to infiltrate Harry's mind as he remembered. It was over. Voldemort was gone, and this time, he would not be returning. In the midst of these conflicting thought, Harry cast his mind back to the prophecy which had dictated his life. "Neither can live while the other survives." Well, he was the survivor. And now, he had a future.

Suddenly, the image of Ginny filled his mind. Her wonderful, flaming hair dancing in the sunlight. The flowery smell that followed her. Her bright, brown eyes which seemed to hold the world in their beautiful spheres, able to pour out emotion like a waterfall, cascading downwards and filling the room with light. As Harry smiled contentedly, a terrible fear washed over him. Was she safe? He winced as he recalled how close she strayed to Death's presence. How Bellatrix had almost taken another life. "It's safe now", he told himself sternly, as the image of Voldemort's death flashed across his eyes. However, he couldn't entirely throw off the sense of fear and worry which had been ingrained by a year of running, and fighting, and hardly daring to hope that this day could ever arrive.

"This," thought Harry, "This is the beginning." All of his life he had been hunted. Yet now, he was free. Free from Voldemort. Free from the piece of soul that had invaded his body. Free from the worry that had accompanied the prophecy all those years ago. Free from a life shadowed by evil. Now, he could live, and take flight.

With these positive thoughts etched upon his mind, Harry swung himself out of bed and opened his eyes.

Everything ached. Harry grimly made his way to the shower, barely noticing the empty beds beside him through his blurred eyes. As he showered, he took in his bruised and scarred body. He avoided looking at his chest, acknowledging the throbbing pain whilst shutting out the memory of his journey into the forest and how close he had come to joining those who had lost their lives in the battle. How close he came to leaving everyone that he loved in this world to greeting those he missed in the next.

Harry muttered "Accio clothes," and hastily dressed, noting their cleanliness in comparison to his blood and grime covered clothing from the day before. He smirked slightly as he imagined turning up at Privet Drive wearing them. He wondered if the Dursley's knew the war was over. Whether Petunia knew that the man who had killed her sister had been killed himself, by his own rebounding curse. It was rather apt, thought Harry, that Voldemort had been the instrument of his own destruction. All he, Harry, had done was to remove the source of his power. He sighed, knowing that he could ask about them later, and summoned his glasses, washing them in the sink to remove the accumulated dirt and blood obscuring the lenses. Glancing in the mirror, Harry observed a thin, bruised yet reasonably clean man staring back at him. Making his way back to his bed, Harry noticed a note on the windowsill.

Harry-

We're all in the Common Room. Thought we'd let you sleep for a bit.

Ron

Taking a deep breath, and contemplating what exactly Ron meant by the word "all", Harry left the dormitory, and made his way down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room.

A sea of faces stared up at him, and Harry took a moment to take in the scene. The entire Weasley family, except, thought Harry with a pang, Fred, were either sitting or standing in the common room. Professor McGonagall also stood by the fireplace, seemingly in the middle of addressing the group. Several members of the Order, including Hestia Jones and Kingsley Shaklebolt, were dotted around the room, whilst the entirety of the remaining DA were also crammed in, including Luna. Evidently the House system had fallen in the place of unity.

"Harry, you're awake!" shrieked Hermione, hugging him fiercely.

"Alright mate?" asked Ron, rolling his eyes at Hermione and punching him affectionately in the arm. Harry winced, as Hermione stepped back towards Ron, who put his arm around her.

"Never better" Harry replied, smiling. "What time is it?"

"Oh, only about 11," said Hermione, "We thought you could do with a lie in."

She looked at Harry slightly anxiously, evidently worrying about the trauma of the previous day.

However, he had other, more pressing issues on his mind. He glanced around the Common Room slightly desperately, seeing smiling faces staring up at him. Yet, finally, the face that he had been looking for. Ginny.

Their eyes locked. He didn't notice that the room had fallen silent in anticipation. He didn't notice Hermione's tears falling down her smiling face. He didn't notice the dawning looks of comprehension throughout the Weasley family. To them, there was nobody else in the room. Their shared gaze communicated more words than a thousand letters could ever hope to express, the force of love breaking through the pain and shock and terror of the previous day.

Gazing into her eyes, Harry could see something strange in their beautiful, fiery brown depths. Fear, loss, pain, hope, joy and uncertainty all seemed to be conveyed in them. Yet there was something else.

"Ginny?" he croaked "I…I"

He didn't know what to say. No words could express the range of emotions swirling around his brain, like a thousand golden snitches were trapped inside his head. Yet, suddenly, he realised that there was only one word to say.

"I love you" he said, releasing his heart and banishing the key.

Suddenly, Ginny, the girl- the woman- who never cried, had tears running down her face. The Weasley family exchanged looks of alarm, and Mrs Weasley made to touch her daughter's arm. Yet, something held her back. Somehow, she knew that the moment belonged to them.

Ginny stepped towards him. Then began to pummel his arms. "Never… do… that… to … me … again!" she gulped between punches. Harry stood, arms at his sides, without defending himself.

"I'm sorry." He said, again and again. "I'm sorry."

Suddenly they were in each other's arms. Their kiss seemed to fuse them together until their souls were one, knitted together more powerfully than any physical stitch. Their connection seemed to transcend Time itself. Love, thought Harry, Love survives. War can trample people to the ground, crush their spirits and kill their friends. Yet love cannot be quashed. Love is a survivor, where all else dies- and so, like their first kiss, as they broke apart, the minutes, hours, or several sunlit days spent in each other's arms spelt out renewal. Life. Hope. Future. And so, as the seeds grow and take root in spring, their love was planted, ready to grow.

Their tears flowed together, a river of love cascading down their faces, the blessed landscape in which water flowed.

"I love you too." Breathed Ginny- and with that, their relationship was incarnate. Sealed.

They stood for several minutes, Harry breathing in her scent, her hair, proof that she was living. Yet they finally broke apart, and awoke to a room full of mysteriously damp eyed friends and family.

**AN I hope you enjoyed it. Please review!**


	2. The Boy Who Loved

**A/N Sorry, I had no idea that this hadn't uploaded properly. I don't know what happened, thank you Sunshine72 for letting me know. :) **

**All of it belongs to JK Rowling, not me.**

They blushed slightly as they pulled apart, realising that they weren't alone. Ginny reached down and held Harry's hand. It was as if, after a year of separation, they wanted to affirm their proximity and never be apart again.

"Oh... you two," sobbed Mrs Weasley, standing up and hugging them both.

Ginny hugged her back, making a face at George behind her back. His vacant eyes had lit up somewhat, and she could almost see the joke factory in his brain working overdrive to find something to say about her and Harry. Suddenly, he grinned.

"So, Harry."

Everyone jumped and looked at George, who had barely said a word that morning, let alone broached such a playful tone.

"I can see the headlines now-'The Boy Who Loved.'"

Harry glared at him, but the corner of his mouth quirked upwards as the room laughed- slightly harder than they would normally have done, as if to compensate for the grief and sadness that permeated the joy of victory. He risked a glance at the remaining Weasley boys and was relieved to see that they all looked happy. In fact, Bill had a rather knowing look on his face, and was mouthing something to Ginny that Harry couldn't quite make out. Mr Weasley then stood up and shook his hand.

"It couldn't have been anyone else, son," he said, smiling at Harry's relieved expression.

"Speaking of newspaper headlines," interjected Professor McGonagall, "The Daily Prophet is wishing to speak to you. They've got dozens of reporters downstairs, hoping to meet you on your way to the Great Hall. Shall I send them away?"

"I'd forgotten about the Press," mumbled Harry, torn between embarrassment and annoyance, "I suppose they'll have to know what's happened, but I haven't even told any of you yet, not properly" he said, gesturing around the room.

"I shall tell them that you will release a statement in due course, then" said Professor McGonagall, leaving the room. She turned back on her way through the portrait hole.

"And you did an amazing thing yesterday, Harry. Your parents would have been proud."

Harry felt an unexpected surge of emotion at these words and sighed, turning to stare at the fireplace.

"Are you okay?" asked Ginny, quietly.

"Yeah, fine," he replied. Then he shook his head. "I mean, I can't get my head around it. We spent so long-" he glanced up at Ron and Hermione-"trying to bring Voldemort down. And now it's actually happened, it doesn't feel real. And whenever I feel glad about it, I just feel guilty because-"

He cut off, unable to continue.

"You've got nothing to feel guilty about!" said Ginny immediately. She looked at Ron and Hermione, and he knew that they must have expected him to react in this way.

"It's Voldemort's fault, all of it. You just saved everyone from him. You nearly died-"

This time, Ginny broke off, unable to continue.

"I'm sorry" he tried to say, before Ginny interrupted him.

"And stop apologising! You have nothing to apologise for."

"Sorry." he said. Then, incongruously, they both started laughing.

"I know," Harry said thoughtfully, "I know it's not, really. I just can't help it."

Ginny leaned in to kiss him.

"It's okay. We'll all tell you. Hundreds of times, if need be."

"What're we all telling Harry?" asked Luna, perched on the arm of an armchair occupied by Charlie Weasley.

"Not to feel guilty about anything." said Ginny emphatically.

Suddenly, everyone was showering him with compliments and telling him not to feel guilty. Harry held up his hands in defeat.

"Okay, okay. I know!" he cried in surrender at the onslaught of positivity directed in his direction.

Ginny pushed him playfully in the chest. And everything went dark.

**Please review. I'll try to upload properly next time!**


	3. Ginny

**A/N Here's another chapter! **

**Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, not me.**

Ginny's POV

I sat there. Waiting. It was all that I could do to stop myself from jumping up and screaming, if only to drain myself of the emotions swirling inside me. The hopes, dizzying expectation. The fear- no, terror- which accompanied the rising tempo that beat to the rhythm of war. My friends, my family… every one of them were at the mercy of the most evil wizard of all time. I wasn't scared for myself. I knew that if I died, it would be for a cause that I believed in. I would be helping to rid the world of a wizard who had caused untold pain and suffering. He had killed my uncles. He took Fred from us. He took Harry's parents from him.

Harry. I had been pushing his name from my mind in an attempt to force myself to sit still. To comfort my mother, despite the drowning weight of grief that enveloped me. To hug George, whose broken eyes still flickered to the left, desperate to find Fred by his side. It was so unfair. Yet we had won. His death had not been in vain.

I remembered the surge of grief that had hit me when I saw Harry in Hagrid's arms. For months fear had dominated my life, hoping that he was safe whilst I was plunged into the horror of not knowing. Ron and Hermione, too. Hermione, my best friend. Ron, my brother. Harry, the love of my life. All three of them gone, and all of us were unable to discuss where they might be for fear of being overheard. Yet it seemed like the end. Perhaps it was. Yet I loved him. I wanted to be with him. I had to fight. I needed to defend everything that I stood for, that Harry stood for.

Professor McGonagall stood by the fireplace, talking to some of the Order. Her eyes flickered occasionally to the stairs which led to the Common Room. Then, she glanced at me and I blushed, realising that I had been imitating Harry's disposition towards people watching. Then there were footsteps on the stairs, and everyone fell silent in anticipation.

Harry appeared in the doorway, looking slightly disorientated. I saw Hermione fling her arms around him, and Ron smirking. I saw Harry wince when Ron punched him cheerfully in the arm. I saw him insist that he was 'never better', and smile in the way that he always did.

I loved him. I really did. So, without registering my actions, I stood up. Harry looked up, surveying the room. "I'm here!" I felt like shouting. "Here, waiting for you."

Then, he told me that he loved me. I love you too, Harry. I love you too.


	4. Agreement

**A/N Here's another chapter. Everything belongs to JK Rowling, not me.**

Harry awoke to a searing pain, which appeared to split his chest in two. It was different to the pain which he had experienced with his scar- this was the pain of a fresh wound, raw and open. However, Harry was used to pain. Despite his years at Hogwarts being riddled with injuries, the past year had added to the long list, dulling his response to pain. So, as his eyes flickered open, he didn't cry out as the pain returned to him.

Instead, he immediately leapt to his feet, brandishing his wand. A few people screamed, and he breathed in and out rapidly as he stared around wildly, head spinning. Then he realised where he was, and slowly lowered his wand.

"Sorry," he muttered embarrassedly, heart still pounding as images of Death Eaters filled his mind.

Hermione, Ron and Ginny were grouped around him, Hermione clutching onto Ron's arm to stay upright. She had evidently been forced to leap backwards as Harry had suddenly awoken.

"Impressive reflexes," remarked Kingsley. A few people nodded, whilst many just stared concernedly at Harry, not least Mrs Weasley.

"I think we'd better get you to the hospital wing, dearie," she implored.

"I don't need-" Harry interjected somewhat desperately, dreading being fussed over.

"Hospital Wing," ordered Ginny, "Now."

She looked pale yet determined, and the internal battle going on inside Harry's head was evident for all to see.

"I think you'd better, mate," commented Ron.

In one last ditch attempt, Harry looked at Hermione for support.

"Honestly, Harry," she exclaimed "Just go."

He glanced back at Ginny, who had an equally determined look on her face.

"Look, if you don't agree I'll drag you there," she said firmly.

"Fine," he grumbled, wincing as a fresh shot of pain ripped through his chest.


	5. Healing

**A/N Final chapter folks! **

**I own none of the Harry Potter universe- it all belongs to JK Rowling. **

In the weeks that followed, recovery slowly began. Harry's new scar healed, with much fussing by Madam Pomfrey, leaving a jagged line across his chest. Ginny laughed, saying that it was better than a Hungarian Horntail tattoo any day. However, for all their joking, they knew the true meaning of the scar; it showed how close Harry had come to death.

Harry attended every funeral and memorial service for the fallen, speaking at many. The press followed him everywhere, relentless in their coverage of him. Ron and Hermione were also subject to the same media attention as Harry, although with slightly less intensity. Soon, they fully appreciated Harry's hatred for them, and for the consequences of fame. Nonetheless, it was a time of celebration when they each appeared on a chocolate frog card. Mrs Weasley cooked a huge meal to celebrate, catering for their vastly expanding family.

When Harry and Ginny married, their bond was solidified. However, Harry didn't have to become part of the family. The Weasley's already were his family.

Harry and Ginny. Together. Forever.


End file.
